The Safeword
by OrigamiPaperAngel
Summary: In which the Batter and the Player's romantic relationship is put in jeopardy due to a wild misunderstanding involving Zacharie. This story is best described as a "crack and smutty romcom;" your mileage may vary.


He grips your wrist and twists it behind your back; nails dig sharply into your skin, eliciting a rush of excitement followed immediately by a jolt of fear. You had specifically asked for this, had spelled out this fantasy with such care and confidence that he agreed without question. And yet, now that it is here, furious, alive and forcing you face-down onto the floor, it is too much. You feel utterly helpless, and that helplessness is both exciting and terrifying. Your safeword bubbles up in your throat, but you grit your teeth and choke it back down.

The Batter forces his knee between your thighs and releases his vice-like grip to fumble with his zipper. _I can't do this,_ you think. _I don't want this._ At the words in your head you feel a feel a flash of wetness inside your folds, You moan and writhe against him when you feel calloused fingers forcing the lower lips apart, completely naked and already a panting, sweaty mess. The thought of how he must look, stone-faced and looming above, makes your womanhood ache for the feel of him inside, rough and forceful and completely in control.

"Are you ready?" He asks coldly, cruelly, and you bite your lip and shake your head no. This is all a part of the act: it had been discussed it earlier, but still the possessive way his hands tighten against your hips sends a shiver down your spine.

"Too bad," he says. "_I'm going to fuck you raw._"

He makes good of his promise swiftly; before you can work in a line of your own he slams inside of you with a brutal force that makes you cry out. Ragged groans turn into hushed yelps of pleasure as Batter begins to pump hard and fast into his Puppeteer.

Still inside of you, he leans forwards. One hand travels from your hip to her throat, pulling your head backwards. He breaths against your ear and his grip tightens. As intense and erotic as the gesture is, it becomes more than a little uncomfortable when his grip tightens. You grab his hand to remove it, but he doesn't know that you mean for him to stop; instead he laughs and tightens his grip. You whimper, in something resembling real panic, and when you try to say the password there is only a hoarse whisper. As a last resort you fiercely throw your head back against his, and at the shock of the impact his grip slackens and you desperately suck in as much air as you can manage.

A masculine growl fills the air, but Batter doesn't say a word. His Puppeteer is still breathless when he resumes his tight hold of your hips and thrusts into you with a fierce and unrelenting pace. Loud groans and grunts spill from his mouth as his thrusts become shorter, quicker and harder, and his thrusts are so rough that all of a sudden you feel terrified and overwhelmed. You want this to _stop_, at least for the moment, so you desperately scream the safeword:

"_Zacharie!_"

He stops immediately. The atmosphere becomes less intense, and despite your desperate panting, you are relieved and a little amused. When you two agreed on this safeword a while ago, both had snickered at the absurdity of it. You had been more amused than he was, though half of your mirth was at the fact that it was **his** suggestion.

* * *

_("Zacharie's prices are going through the roof," you had mused, not too long ago. "I wonder why."_

_"I know why," the Batter said gruffly, looking back at the shop._

_You smiled and looked up at him. "Care to explain?"_

_He looked away, seeming embarrassed. "He sees that we are together, and he hopes that I will spend many credits to impress you."_

_"Oh!" You said, smiling widely. "So that's why he kept asking you if you wanted to buy chocolates and stuffed animals. Ha! Even with the mask on, I could tell he was unhappy when you said no."_

_"Yes, and he raised the price of the rest of his items out of spite," your partner grumbled. "Although I'm sure if I confronted him about it he would insist he's helping me by- what would he say?- _enabling_ me to show you what a good provider I could be." _

_A thought seized him, and he turned to you urgently. "You aren't mad I said no to the gifts, are you?"_

_"Of course not!" You assured him. "I don't need items to know you love me." The Batter's face reddened in such an endearing way that you were forced to link your arm in his. "Sneaky Zacharie," you said good-naturedly._

_"I'll have to find a way to get back at him," Batter muttered._

_You gave an automatic "Uh-oh" and looked up at him. "Not in your usual manner, I hope." The image of Batter looming over Zacharie with a bat in hand was nothing short of alarming. _

_"Oh, of course not," Batter said, quickly and soothingly. "Where else would I get my items? No," he looked thoughtful. "I will have to find another way."_

_You chuckled at this and your head returned to its resting spot on his arm. The duo walked onwards for a time in peaceful silence when the Batter spoke again. "I know how," he stated simply. When you turned your gaze on him he was sporting an uncharacteristic grin. "Remember that talk we had about, ahem, BDSM?"_

_"Yes," you say, fondly remembering how flustered he was when you explained it to him. "We decided we probably shouldn't try anything like that until we get to know each other better."_

_"You also told me about safewords," The Batter continued. "We didn't settle on one. However, I now know what our safeword will be."_

_"Oh yeah? What?"_

_"Zacharie," he said.)_

* * *

Now that you've said it, out loud, it sounds so silly and ill-fitting that you chuckle softly.

The Batter, however, is furious. "You think that's _funny?_" He says, his voice tight with anger. After this he rips himself out of you, and you gasp, more out of surprise than pain.

"Batter, what's wrong?"

You turn around to see his face dark and pinched. "What the fuck do you think is wrong?" He says, his lips twisted into an ugly grimace. Although he turns his head away and moves to redress, you don't miss the redness in his eyes.

Obviously he has forgotten about the safeword and is hurt. You try to comfort him as quick as possible, as you can conceive of nothing worse than him being hurt over a silly misunderstanding, but in your hurry words tumble out of your mouth without any filter.

"Batter-don't be silly-you know, of course, that Zacharie is-that it was _your_ idea-"

"_My_ idea?" He neither yells or screams. Since his back is turned, all you can hear is his voice, low, even and perfectly serene. His calmness is so eerie that you feel a flash of fear. "As I recall, this was _your_ idea." Ever so slowly he bends over to pick up his cap. "_You_ said we should try 'something different'."

You watch as he settles the cap over his head and slowly turns to face you. His eyes are obscured in shadow, but as anger creeps into his tone you easily imagine they're wild with rage. "I admit I wondered what brought it on. Now I know." His voice lowers. "You missed Zacharie, so you asked me to fuck you as he fucks you."

"B-Batter," you stammer, your voice shaking with what is almost hysteria. It is so rare for Batter to swear, and the fact that he's been calmly cursing is so indicative of the depth of his anger that your nerves are set on overdrive. "Don't be... stupid."

It is the worst thing you could have possibly said, but this horrible and abrupt turn of events is so horrible and unexpected that you're robbed of your usual composure.

To your horror, he _smiles_. "No, Player," he says. "I won't be. No longer."

* * *

He doesn't slam the door when he leaves, but you find yourself wishing he had: the silence he leaves behind is deafening.

Although it is not often that Zacharie finds himself uncomfortable with silence, on the off chance that he is all alone and has no work to do he will hum. Now, for instance, he is humming an old and playful lullaby. His voice is soft and warm, and he infuses it with an undertone of sadness to match the subtle melancholy of its lyrics.

Oddly enough, he's been humming more than usual lately. Although his shop is still filled with the usual flow of Elsen, he has not been visited by the Batter and the Puppeteer for a long time.

_Well,_ he reminds himself. _Four days, to be exact._ The timespan itself may not be long, but, as businesslike as his manner is, he can't deny the fondness he feels for the bloodthirsty religious zealot and his mysterious companion. He looks forward to their visits, which are usually once a day; the longest they've ever gone without a visit is two days.

He gasps as a horrifying thought hits him. Could they have found another merchant? _No, of course not._ He is the only vendor in the whole game. The fanciful thought escapes as soon as it arrived. Perhaps the two had a row? But surely if that were the case, one of them would come to him. He hopes the idea isn't too presumptuous; from the way they interact, he believes the Puppeteer would consider him the best choice in the game for a confidant, besides the Judge.

Thinking it over, perhaps she _would_ choose to confide in the Judge rather than himself. Zacharie sighs abysmally.

"What's the matter?" A brusque voice asks him, and Zacharie looks up to see the Batter. He blanches underneath his mask at the sight: the Batter looked positively haggard.

"I should ask you the same thing!" The vendor blurts out. "My dear friend, what happened to you?"

The Batter narrows his eyes and releases a heavy sigh before leaning on the counter and fixing Zacharie with a stone cold gaze. "I've been purging spectres non-stop for the past few days," he mutters. "I left my house with my Puppeteer."

"Goodness," Zacharie says. It may not be much but it's all he can say after hearing of this. "Are you all right?"

The Batter looks as though he'd like to wring his neck, but he keeps his composure. "I'm fine, considering the circumstances."

"And…" Zacharie's voice lowers. "Do you have any credits?"

"Of course!" Batter hisses.

"Sorry, my friend, but I had to ask!" Although the Batter can't see him, he can tell from Zacharie's voice that there is a sheepish smile underneath the mask. A few moments pass. "Forgive me for being so bold, but I must ask: whatever caused you to leave your darling Puppeteer?"

"You," the Batter growls, sending the merchant a fierce glare.

"_Me?_" Zacharie asks with exaggerated surprise. "That is a shame, although I haven't the faintest idea why. How about I can give you an excellent deal to make up for whatever it is that I've done?" He takes out an item and holds it out for Batter's inspection like a gleeful new father showing off his newborn child. "Perhaps an Aura of Tenacity, to ensure that you can once again hold the lovely Puppeteer in your arms. Only 5500 credits!"

"Last time I checked, the price was only 5000!" The Batter snaps, and Zacharie holds up his hands in defense.

"I can't be held responsible for fluctuations in market prices," Zacharie says calmly. "To be honest I am officially selling this for 6000. I made a special deal just for you, but if you don't want to take it, well…"  
The Batter narrows his eyes and tunes out the vendor's words. _Does he truly believe I will fall for his tricks? _He thinks. _Sneaky Zacharie._ He starts at this; that was not his thought.

It must have been his Puppeteer's, he thinks solemnly. But when did she say that…?

Zacharie hears a choking sound and turns around to see a thoroughly starrtled Batter.

"Are you all right, friend?" He asks hesitantly.

"Yes," the Batter says breathily and heatedly. Zacharie takes a step back, just to be on the safe side. "Now I know what was wrong!" He turns to Zacharie, giving the merchant a bright-eyed smile. "When she screamed your name during copulation, she wasn't calling for _you_! She was just using our _safeword!_"

There's a long pause wherein the Batter and Zacharie think carefully. Batter thinks about how to win his Puppeteer back after his behavior, and Zacharie wonders if he really just heard what he thought he did.

Zacharie speaks first. "Excuse me." His tone is laden with the polite scorn of an offended gentleman. "Are you telling me that you and our dear Puppeteer decided on _my_ name for a safeword?"

"Yes," the Batter says, barely paying attention.

Despite Zacharie's righteous offense, he is not impervious to the cheer radiating from his best customer. This is a special moment: not only is the sight of the stoic Batter smiling rarer than catching a glimpse of the Queen's face, but a painful misunderstanding has just been cleared up solidly. Consequently, he finds himself too happy for his friend to deliver the stern reproach he deserves.

He watches as the Batter turns to leave, bound for his Puppeteer. "Hold on, amigo."

The Batter turned to see Zacharie holding a hefty box of candy in one hand and two large stuffed toys in the other.

"You might need these."

* * *

You're not sure what you expect when you hear firm knocks on your door. Although your heartbeat increases at the notion that it could be the Batter, you resign yourself with the more realistic idea that it is probably a neighborly Elsen asking to borrow a cup of sugar.

To your joy there is a tall and handsome man, rather than a weak and nervous Elsen, standing on your doorstep with presents. The Batter wears a humble and apologetic expression completely unlike himself. Indeed, he looks so like a lost puppy that your heart almost melts.

Almost. You can't forget the harsh and irrational way he treated you-

"I'm sorry," he says earnestly, looking into your eyes. "Please forgive me."

Your heart melts.

An exclamation of "Oh, _Batter_!" is all you can manage through the tidal wave of emotions crashing upon you. Unsure of himself, the Batter holds out the extravagant gifts. You accept the heart-shaped box of chocolates first, noting the large red bow attached to it. Next you take the two soft stuffed renditions of Pablo and Zacharie. You silently admire Zacharie's impeccable craftsmanship before looking up with a bright smile.

"Come in, Batter," you say, laughing with joy. His eyes light up at the sight of you and his heart aches when he realizes just how much he missed it. He grabs you, presents and all, and holds you tightly to him. It's sweet, raw, and wonderful, but you have to break apart.

No sooner has the door been closed and the gifts set down than you are pulled into an embrace. This one is warmer and bereft of awkwardness; you smile into his shoulder and appreciate the strength of his hold. After a few moments you raise your head to meet his gaze; he touches your face. Caressing your supple cheek, he lifts your chin, your noses almost touching. You can feel the warmth of his breath brushing the top of your lips, and soon your lips are embracing in a deep, loving kiss.

In the back of your mind you make a mental note to talk to him about changing your safeword. It will be something tame and simple, you decide, something _completely_ different so to ensure that nothing like this ever happens again...

"Dedan" will do quite nicely, you decide.


End file.
